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"They are?"
I motion for him to follow me toward the kitchen, where I pour myself a tall glass of orange juice. I need something to get this dry taste from my throat.
"Hell, yeah. Finally, you're starting to make my job easy. Check it out."
I gulp down the contents of the glass and pour myself a second serving before grabbing the phone Tate's offering me. Browsing through the articles he's clipped for me, I notice, much to my surprise, that most of them show me in a positive light.
"You stood up for this little hottie; good for you. If you had told me what you were planning, I'd have prepared a few interviews already, but that's not a problem. I've already made a few calls."
"Planned it?" I ask, and for a moment, consider taking the credit for this surprising streak of good luck. "Nah, I didn't plan shit. I just saw a gal who needed some help, and I gave it to her."
"Well, no matter how it happened, it's gold. Especially since there's a rumor, I won't say who started it, that she's a special someone in your life. You've finally found love, Grayson."
"Love? What the hell are you talking about?"
"You've been dating this woman on the down low for a few months now, and you couldn't let a creep bother your girl. So, you put her safety ahead of your privacy, like the gentleman that you are."
"Huh, and I bet the anonymous sources that confirmed that rumor all have your or your secretary's voice."
"Who do you take me for? A few of my cousins chipped in as well to avoid any paparazzi getting suspicious."
I roll my eyes and chuckle at his sneaky ways. That's what a manager is there for, I suppose. That and making sure my contracts are in order.
"Alright, if that's how you decided I should play this, let's go with that."
"Great! So, we need you two to be seen around town ASAP. Tonight would be best, but we can wait till tomorrow if she's still rattled up from the scuffle."
"Rattled up?" I shake my head, memories of Tyley flooding my mind, from the time I saw her across the room to our passionate rendezvous in the bathroom. And how round, how firm her ass looked as she walked away. "I doubt there's much that can rattle that girl up."
Tate gives me a knowing smirk. "You're smitten, aren't you? Well, that just makes this even better. People love a good love story, and we can spin this into a perfect PR move for you."
"Not going to happen."
His jaw falls for a moment, but he's quick to compose himself, shooting me a suspicious look. "What?"
"She's not too sweet on me, Tate. I don't see her agreeing to this little stunt."
Tate lets out an exasperated sigh. "Grayson, you really know how to complicate things, don't you? Look, we can work on her. Maybe convince her that it's all just for show. What does she do for a living?"
"She's a promotional model."
"Perfect! We can get her any deal she wants with one of the companies that sponsor you. See? Nothing your old pal Tate can't fix."
I consider his idea for a moment, but it doesn't quite sit well with me. I've heard of celebrities doing this fake dating stuff for publicity before, but doing it myself sounded pathetic, even cruel. I've hardly gotten to know Tyley, yet there's something about her that caught my attention, that mesmerized me even, and I don't want her feeling cheap.
"Nah, I don't think that's a good idea."
"It's a great idea. Don't underestimate the power of a good offer. She'll say yes; just give me her number, and I'll arrange everything."
"She didn't give me her number," I say plainly, perhaps a bit amused at putting spokes in his wheel. "Sorry."
"She didn't—are you fucking serious?"
"In fact, she barely agreed to give me her name at all."
"You're enjoying this a bit too much. Alright, tell me her name then. I'll handle the rest."
"Tyley Evans. But I don't want you badgering her, Tate. I’ll talk to her, and if she says no, that’s it.”
